


anatomy lessons with oikawa tooru

by SoManyThings



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 10/10 Would Recommend, Alternate Universe - College/University, Dentist Student Iwaizumi, M/M, liberal use of anatomical language, sexual tension as a revision technique, yknow how there are different types of learners? this is the epitome of physical learning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 18:13:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8811034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoManyThings/pseuds/SoManyThings
Summary: In which dentist students need to know a shocking amount about the human body, and Oikawa helps his aggravated dentist student roommate learn the finer details of the human form. basically a ‘i need to study for an anatomy test and you suggested i use you as a model to point things out and explain them but it also means im touching you a lot, and i can just feel you trying not to shiver’ au





	

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i study politics and philosophy, and know literally nothing about anatomy except a) what i can distinguish from google images and b) what my dentist flatmate told me over dinner. if ur a med student, im sorry? 
> 
> rating for iwaizumis very liberal use of swears and implied sexual content <3

“You study _dentistry,_ why on earth do you need to know the entirety of human anatomy?”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, managing to draw his eyes away from diagrams and textbooks long enough to give _the_ _l_ _ook_  to his asshole roommate who wouldn’t _let him study._ Oikawa gave him _the_ _look_ back.

“Tell that to the medical faculty, idiot, and let me study.”

“C’mon, can’t you take a break?” He practically whined. Iwaizumi ignored him, and the subsequent high pitched whine of “ _Iwa-chaaaaaan_!”. After being repeatedly prodded in the cheek, however, he realised the futility of the silent treatment on his friend-stroke-roommate-stroke-perpetual-headache, and slammed a hand the kitchen table hard enough to rattle his pencil case and cause Oikawa to jump.

“Listen, unless you’re going to _actively help me study,_ please _go away.”_ He said, with his teeth clenched and the distinct feeling that he was losing days off his life the more time he spent with the other man in his presence. The fucker only beamed in response. Feeling, no, _knowing,_ that he would regret it, Iwaizumi decided to ask. “ _What_?”

“Use me as a model! I’m practically born for it- _ow!_ ” Oikawa yelped as Iwaizumi jabbed him in the side, but carried on. “Point out all the… whatever- on me!”

Iwaizumi levelled his gaze, watching and weighing up whether or not taking him up on his offer was worth it. With a sigh, and the realisation that he was right, that this _would_ probably help him, he stood up and shuffled Oikawa backwards into the limited free space they had in their cramped kitchen. The two stood facing each other, Iwaizumi at a loss for where to begin, Oikawa patiently waiting.

Iwaizumi reached out, but his hand wavered. He looked up into Oikawa’s eyes. “It’s ok for me to touch you, right?” Iwaizumi asked. Oikawa nodded with a small laugh, as if it was obvious. Iwaizumi nodded, once to himself, before moving again to begin.

“This is your deltoid,” he began, reaching his hand up to the top of Oikawa’s arm and moving it the top of his shoulder. “This is your trapezius,” he added, grazing his fingers to the back of his roommate’s neck. “And this,” he carried on, trailing his fingers to the side of Oikawa’s neck, “is the sternocleidomastoid.” His fingers smoothed over the skin just above Oikawa’s right collarbone, and his thumb fell to the dip between his clavicle.

Oikawa’s breath hitched. Iwaizumi’s thumb, where it lay over his neck, felt the tiny gasp as it left his throat.

Iwaizumi swallowed, his eyes flitting up to Oikawa’s quickly, before dipping back down to his neck. 

“Good luck trying to spell that in the exam,” Oikawa laughed, quietly, and Iwaizumi felt that too. He allowed himself a small laugh in response, before carrying on.

“Pectorals,” he said, in as matter of fact a voice as he could muster, as he moved his hand down to Oikawa’s chest muscles. As he kept naming muscles, and moving his hand down his roommate’s chest, arms, stomach, he felt tiny twitches and shivers wrack the other’s body.

It was no secret to Iwaizumi that he found his roommate attractive. More than attractive, in fact. Of course he was an asshole; that fact didn’t escape Iwaizumi for a second. But at the same time, in the years of college thus far that he had known him, Iwaizumi had conclusively decided that the other would be the death of him. He was athletic, in a lean but still muscular way, unlike the stocky build Iwaizumi himself had. His hair was stupid, in a “dear god I can’t stop thinking about running my hands through it” kind of way, and his hands, rough and calloused but still somehow elegant, kept Iwaizumi up at night. And here he was, with his hands plastered over him and roaming his skin, at _his_ suggestion, and he could feel every tiny quiver as it went through him.

Belatedly, Iwaizumi realised that he had begun to zone out, no longer naming muscles, but just letting his hands roam around the same spot on Oikawa. ‘ _His hips,_ ’ his brain supplied. “External abdominal oblique,” is what he said, out loud. 

He chanced a look up at Oikawa’s face, only to find the other’s eyes trained elsewhere. Not anywhere near Iwaizumi, in fact, but rather off to the side. Iwaizumi, however, did not miss the blush making it’s way steadily up his neck and onto his cheeks. As if he realised he was being watched, Oikawa turned back towards his friend to meet his gaze.

“What about facial muscles?” Oikawa whispered, voice hardly above hearing level. "You are a dentist, after all." Iwaizumi swallowed, not missing the low timbre of his voice, or how husky it sounded. He nodded firmly and moved his hand to Oikawa’s face.

“This,” Iwaizumi started again, “is the masseter,” his fingers settling softly onto the side of his jaw, “depressor anguli oris,” just below his lip, “orbicularis oris”, the top of his lips. He watched his fingers, and the skin beneath them, how each muscle tensed as Oikawa felt the rough pads of his thumb and fingers land on a new part of his face. And as he watched, as his eyes focused intently on the plump pink of Oikawa’s lips, he noticed them fall apart to open just slightly, and felt the small puff of breath ghost over the top of his hand.

It was as if that tiny exhale had been a cold bucket of water upturned on his head, and he realised exactly what he had been doing. _Where he had been staring._  He jerked his hand away, as if he had been shocked. Oikawa stumbled. _‘You’re taking advantage of him,’_ he thought, ‘ _You’re touching his_ face’.

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asked, eyes wide with a sudden increase of worry.

“I- yeah, thanks, Oikawa, that- that was helpful. Thanks.” He said, his words tapering off into a soft mutter and ending with a cough. He turned around, going to corral his things, intending on holing himself up in his room and focusing on _anatomy,_ rather than _Oikawa._

“I- you’re welcome-?” Oikawa responded, puzzled. Iwaizumi turned to look at him, nodding curtly.

“I’m- I’m going to go rest. Thanks, for- thanks for that.” Iwaizumi said, before bumbling back to his room and shutting his door with a loud, audible click.

He flopped onto his bed and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes with a groan. “Fuck,” he whispered. “fuck, fuck, _fuck._ ” He turned his head to the side, to look at his textbook, which had fallen open to a page on bone structure. As he stared at the heavily labelled diagrams, his mind strayed from the generic black and white drawings to sharp, jutting hipbones, and pale chests with a spattering of light, barely there freckles. Memories from days after gym visits and from when Oikawa shuffled from the shower to his room in only a towel filled his mind, and he groaned, again, loudly.

“Mother _fucker,_ ” was all he had it in him to say.

The more he tried to push the image of athletic physiques and toned bodies out his mind, the more it was filled with other frankly useless facts that would not help him pass his exam. Thoughts like “ _Oikawa’s face is so soft_ ,” and “ _Oikawa’s lips are so pink,_ ” and “ _Jesus Christ, Hajime, why the fuck are you so gay?_ ”

He flopped over onto his side, _away_ from his textbook, before a soft knock on his door grasped his attention.

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa called softly. He grunted in assent, and the door cracked open. Oikawa shuffled in, mug of something warm looking in hand. “I made you hot chocolate,” he offered. Iwaizumi cracked a smile into the pillow, even if Oikawa couldn't see.

“Thanks,” he responded, sitting up and nodding at the small side table for Oikawa to set it down. After he did, Oikawa threw himself down next to his friend, shoving the books and papers off the bed in the process.

“You need a proper break, Iwa-chan!” He declared.

“Why the fuck are you here, then?” was the response. Oikawa rolled his eyes, grabbing Iwaizumi by the sleeve and pulling him back until they were lying parallel to each other.

“Keeping you company so you don’t become a lonely hermit, clearly,” he chimed. Iwaizumi snorted.

“If you had the chance to stay inside 24/7 and never speak to anyone, you would take it in a heartbeat, so cut the crap,” he laughed, turning his head to look at Oikawa. Oikawa laughed, and nodded.

“What else does one need besides _The X Files_ and instant ramen?” He said, waving his hands above his face dramatically. “Ah, but then, no volleyball.” He mused aloud. Iwaizumi hummed in agreement.

“You’d become soft and squishy, no muscles at all.” Iwaizumi replied.

“Then you’d have nothing to use for revision,” Oikawa said. Iwaizumi stilled. Oikawa turned his face towards him, meeting his eyes and smiling softly. “I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable,” he added. Iwaizumi sat up, looking down at his roommate.

“It didn’t make me uncomfortable,” he said, quickly. Oikawa’s eyes widened a fraction, and his eyebrows rose on his face in quietly questioning surprise. _'Motherfucker, Hajime, learn to shut your mouth.’_ he thought. “I mean, uh-” he muttered, turning down to look at his feet. Oikawa sat up, spinning to sit cross-legged and turn towards him.

“You don’t need to lie, Iwa-chan, I understand.” He replied. Iwaizumi sucked in a breath, with a sharp pang of dread falling into his stomach at the soft resignation in Oikawa's voice. He knew that voice, the voice when the dumb boy was blaming himself needlessly. But behind that, was the worrying thought that it was a covert way for bringing his own discomfort to view.

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” he asked, looking at Oikawa with worry etched into his face. Oikawa shook his head, quickly, and reached to place a hand on Iwaizumi’s arm.

“No, _no,_ not at all!” He cried. Iwaizumi bit his lip, finally sitting up fully and half-heartedly shuffling away from Oikawa to sit up against the wall. He gave Oikawa a levelled gaze from the new distance, as if assessing whether or not he was lying.

Sensing a lack of conviction, Oikawa shifted to his knees and made his way over to his roommate. Slowly, and after a deep breath, he grabbed Iwaizumi's hand, and placed it onto his waist, keeping his hand over steadily Iwaizumi’s. Iwaizumi pretended that he couldn't feel the shiver that went across Oikawa's skin when their hands were settled softly onto him. Oikawa pretended that he couldn't feel Iwaizumi's hand shaking under his.

“External oblique,” Iwaizumi mumbled, under his breath. Oikawa broke into a small giggle. Slowly, he moved both of their hands down, past his hips, onto his upper thigh. “Vastus lateralis,” Iwaizumi breathed out. Oikawa laughed, more of a breathy exhale than anything else. Iwaizumi’s eyes were trained onto his thigh, gaze widening slightly as he felt the muscles beneath his hand tense.

He glanced up at Oikawa when he inched closer on his knees, and shuffled Iwaizumi's hand higher up his thigh in the process. The two stared at each other, slowly sizing the other up, while Iwaizumi took his hand back and brought Oikawa’s, still rested atop his, with. Taking Oikawa’s hand in his, he brought it to his own jaw, leaving it to rest on his burning skin.

“What’s this, then?” Oikawa asked, rubbing his thumb along Iwaizumi’s cheek while he cracked a smile. 

“A sign to kiss me, dumbass,” Iwaizumi breathed out.

Oikawa’s eyes widened a fraction and Iwaizumi gasped, each of their faces flushed. But before Iwaizumi could open his mouth to apologise, disregard it, try to explain that he apparently doesn’t have _any fucking control_ over his mouth _,_ Oikawa’s was on his, and they were _kissing._

Oikawa had pitched forward, resting forward on his knees as he leant over and into Iwaizumi and pressed his back hard against the wall. Iwaizumi gasped with the surprise of it, which Oikawa used to shove forward and deepen the kiss. His other hand started to come up to cup Iwaizumi’s face, before detouring to grab Iwaizumi’s hands and place them firmly on his waist. Iwaizumi moaned quietly against his mouth, which made Oikawa hum contentedly against his lips. His grip on Oikawa’s sides tightened a fraction, dragging him towards him until he got the hint and repositioned so he was straddling his hips.

Iwaizumi pushed back into Oikawa, adding a bruising pressure against his mouth, nipping at his lips, swiping his tongue over the back of his teeth. Oikawa, in retaliation, moved off of Iwaizumi’s mouth and pressed open mouthed kisses and small bites into the side of Iwaizumi’s neck, who moaned and grasped a fist into his brown curls.

He pulled back, admiring the bruises against Iwaizumi’s skin before running a thumb against it.

“Star- ster- sterno- difficult to say muscle, right?” He said, giggling as Iwaizumi swatted him on the side and turned away with a darkening flush inching up his face. Nonetheless, Iwaizumi brought his hand up to the newly appeared bruise, feeling over the mark and stretching his muscles for a moment before making a soft noise.

“Platysma, actually,” he responded. “The sternocleidomastoid is here,” he added, gesturing further down his neck. Oikawa only smiled, a devilish smile that Iwaizumi knew by now as one not to be trusted, before moving back down to where he had pointed out.

“Guess I’ll just have to keep going until I get it right,” he whispered. Iwaizumi groaned as his eyes scrunched shut.

Later on, as they lay next to each other in bed, tired and sated, bodies bruised and bitten, lips swollen, Iwaizumi trailed his fingers over Oikawa’s bare skin. He hummed in assent.

“Think you’re well prepared for your test now, Iwa-chan?” he asked. Iwaizumi merely laughed.

“I think I’ve got a good idea of what’s going on.” He replied. In response, Oikawa turned over to face him, and snuggled himself under Iwaizumi’s arms.

As it turned out, Iwaizumi did remember the material for his test. Whether or not the names of the muscles were accompanied by distinct images of pale skin and a sharp, athletic build was irrelevant. All that mattered was that the memories of that pale figure bruised up and flushed red didn’t distract him _too_ badly from the exam.

(Even if it did mean Iwaizumi was just that little bit too keen to get home once it finally ended, if only to litter said figure with another set of bruises and marks.)

**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoyed! comments and kudos are always appreciate lovelies <3
> 
> i started this out as a way to pay homage to the struggles of studying dentistry but at the same time, dentist!iwachan? 
> 
> as always, come scream abt iwaoi with me @americanbeautiies.tumblr.com


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